


Sorry Is A Sacrament

by AislingSiobhan



Series: Prompts and Gifts [3]
Category: Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Domestic Violence, Forgiveness, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislingSiobhan/pseuds/AislingSiobhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Loki/Tom] Written for Batsutousai because she made me. Sorry isn’t something Loki is accustomed to saying. Apologies were not meant to fall from his lips except in false supplications and occasionally towards the All-Father to spare him suffering. But the fear of someone he loves leaving him is stronger than his objections. When you hurt someone you love you should bend over backwards to earn their forgiveness, give gifts and lavish attention, crawl at their feet if need be. For Loki, sorry is a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry Is A Sacrament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batsutousai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/gifts).



This is probably awful, but Bats asked. And well, the idea of gifts right? Ask and ye shall receive? 

* * *

**“Sorry Is A Sacrament”**

**Disclaimer:** The Avengers, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue. Even though I’m going with mythology Loki instead of Marvel Loki. Tom is also, unfortunately, not mine.   
**Summary:** [Loki/Tom] Written for Batsutousai because she made me. Sorry isn’t something Loki is accustomed to saying. Apologies were not meant to fall from his lips except in false supplications and occasionally towards the All-Father to spare him suffering. But the fear of someone he loves leaving him is stronger than his objections. When you hurt someone you love you should bend over backwards to earn their forgiveness, give gifts and lavish attention, crawl at their feet if need be. For Loki, sorry is a gift.   
**Warnings:** Slash. Loki/Tom. AU. Violence. Language. RP Fic.   
**Rating:** R for violence.   
**A/N:** This is all Batsutousai’s fault; I hope you’re proud of yourself. 

_XXX_

“Sorry doesn't take things back, but it pushes things forward. It bridges the gap. Sorry is a sacrament. It's an offering. A gift.” ― Craig Silvey, Jasper Jones

**Words:** 4,181  
 **Chapter 1**  
Theirs was a tumultuous affair. 

They had their ups and downs like all couples had, but somehow when Loki had a down it turned out rather badly for everyone. He scared Tom sometimes, but that didn’t stop him from loving Loki, in fact it made him love the God more. Because he was always sorry, though he never said it; he made breakfast and delivered it to Tom in bed, brought flowers to his hotel room or mobile home when Tom was filming on location, held open doors instead of barging straight in as if he owned the place. Tom always forgave him, though his parents and sisters always told him to leave, leave Loki and never look back, but Tom just couldn’t. 

The heart wants what the heart wants, after all. And his heart wanted Loki. 

Their first meeting had been disastrous. Celebrating the wrapping up of his latest film, excited to see it after the editing was done, Tom had allowed his Hollow Crown colleagues to drag him out for a few drinks. A few had turned into many, and it was all he could do to stand upright, leaning against a bollard while he waited for a taxi to pull up. He had waved a few down, but they all had been full, and so Tom had waited alone because everyone else could handle their drinks apparently and had stayed inside for another round. 

That was when Loki appeared. Dressed head to toe in green and black leather, looking like something out of a renaissance fair or a well like Tom dressed as Loki, the God towered over him, eyes narrowed and arms folded across his chest. 

“So,” He whispered, and Tom flinched from the coldness of his tone. He smiled though, because Tom had always made it a point to be kind to everyone he met, and he nodded his head politely. The other man narrowed his eyes. “You are the one who dared to impersonate me.” 

“What?” Tom questioned, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. He blinked, trying to shake away the effect of the alcohol he had consumed, and with a gasp of realisation he realised why this man seemed so familiar. 

“Loki?!” He laughed then, head thrown back. Loki startled, not having expected the mortal to recognize him so soon nor believe him to be real. But that was a premature thought, because Tom’s next words where, “man that is a brilliant outfit. Really cool! Did you make it yourself? Can I sign your helmet?” 

The God took a step back, annoyed by the hand that was now brandishing a pen. “How dare you, you insipid mortal!” Tom frowned then, holding both hands up in supplication, because everyone knew that some people were better off not angered, and he was alone and this guy had a few inches on him and a few pounds of muscle too. 

“Sorry, man.” Tom said instead, offering a small smile that couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. 

“No, you are not. But you will be,” he snarled, and with that rather worrying threat Loki reached out to grab Tom by the throat. As his fingers closed around pale flesh a car beeped its horn and Loki jumped back as if burned. He glanced around, eyeing the metal beasts warily, and Tom jumped at the opportunity to escape. 

Tom dived into the taxi that had pulled up against the curb, having beeped impatiently at the potential fare that hadn’t noticed him, and threw a handful of money over the chair onto the front seat. “Take me as far away as that will buy, please?” He could get a cab back from wherever he ended up, as long as he put enough distance between himself and that nutcase first. 

“You ok?” The driver asked, glancing back at him in the mirror. Tom just shrugged, but he turned around completely in his seat to stare out of the back window. The Loki impersonator was still standing there, hand outstretched and fingers curling around empty air, and as if he knew Tom was watching, Loki glanced up and met his stare dead on. In a flash of green, Loki disappeared from the pavement, gone like magic, and it was all Tom could do to stop himself from screaming. 

Their second meeting had been almost as bad, but instead of threatening Tom, Loki had appeared on the set of his newest film, a few months later, and kidnapped the actor instead. They had vanished together, five seconds after Tom felt an unfamiliar arm wrap around his waist from behind; he was supposed to have been alone, and he hadn’t heard anyone come into the room, and yet there was an arm, and he had been so surprised he hadn’t thought to shout for help or scream or struggle. And then they were gone, whisked through time and space and Tom had gagged, crouched on the floor with shaking fingers scratching at the ground for purchase. Anything to remind himself he was on solid ground again. 

“I forget that not everyone enjoys teleportation. Take deep breaths, imposter.” 

Tom struggled to clear his head, shaking it from side to side like he was trying to dislodge whatever had jammed between his ears. When he could think again, his thoughts having become less “oh god I’m going to be killed by a crazy man” and more “what do you do in these situations?” Tom murmured, “My name is Thomas William Hiddleston.” 

Loki turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “I am Loki of Asgard, brother of Odin All-Father.” He scowled then, eyes narrowing and lips thinning, “and I am not burdened by ‘glorious purpose’.” He snorted, sounding a little amused by the thought, and Tom frowned. 

“Brother?” He thought to himself, but apparently he had spoken out loud because Loki answered him. 

“Imposter,” he said, ignoring Tom’s name, “you and your compatriots have gotten many details wrong. Your… movie is an insult upon the house of Odin, upon my honour and I demand satisfaction.”

Tom’s mouth moved but no words would come out. He thought about every kidnapping film he had ever seen, anything he had read from a real life victim’s point of view, and those police seminars they made him go to during his school years. What was it they said? Make the kidnapper see him as more than a body, make himself real. “My name is Tom Hiddleston. I have two sisters and my parents are divorced. My sisters’ names are Sarah and-”

“Silence fool!” Loki cried, and one hand rose as if to strike Tom. Tom cringed, ducking his head down and eyeing the hand in fear. The hand fell again and Loki walked slowly around him in a circle. Tom tried not to seem so afraid, imagined that this was a film, just another scene and any minute now someone would shout ‘cut’ and he could pick himself up off of the floor and this Loki would slap him on the back lightly, congratulating him on another well shot scene. “I demand satisfaction.” The man repeated. 

“Are you going to k-kill me?” Tom’s voice caught on one particular word. Loki shook his head slowly, crouching down so that they were eye level. One hand caught Tom’s face, squeezing it tight, fingers digging into his cheeks until his lips puckered. “I demand satisfaction, not your death, mortal,” Loki breathed, almost mouth to mouth with Tom. And then they were kissing, Tom stiff and petrified in Loki’s grasp and Loki with his lips furious and brutal, tongue prodding until it was granted entry and hands were sliding down to fumble at the belt of Tom’s trousers. “No!” He cried, trying to pull away, afraid of this more than he had been of death. “Please no!” 

Loki drew back, eyebrows furrowing again, but his hand stayed pressed against Tom’s crotch. “You will not grant me satisfaction?” The words sounded angry even though his face didn’t look it; if anything Loki looked amused, at the thought that someone would deny him, especially a mortal. 

Tom took a shuddering breath, waiting until his mind had worked through the fear, blocking out the word ‘rape’ that kept echoing through his brain. “On earth people don’t just jump into bed with each other,” he told the God, still not entirely sure if he believed that this was Loki; knowing only that this man was dangerous and that he himself was afraid and desperate. He lied, and he hoped his kidnapper couldn’t tell that when he said ‘people’ he meant ‘him’. He didn’t just jump into bed with anyone, especially when he was unwilling. “We bring them out to dinner or to movies and we talk first, learn about each other.”

“Like courting?” Loki offered him another lift of an eyebrow. He had thought that mortals had evolved passed the stilted social proprieties of the Victorian era, the last time he had been on Midgard and had had to marry a woman before she would lie with him. 

“Sort of. But there’s no intention to marry. Not right away at least. Sometimes people do get married, but it’s a trust thing. You know? Get to know someone, know if you can trust them intimately?” 

Loki seemed to be thinking it over, and Tom held his breath, waiting for rough hands and an invading tongue again, but instead Loki drew away his hand and stood. “Very well,” he said, sounding put out about the entire matter. “I will meet you at your living quarters tomorrow eve at seven and you will take me to this dinner and a movie you spoke of.” Before Tom could protest Loki was gone. He blinked his eyes and the man wasn’t there anymore when he had opened them again, just like the other month when he had disappeared from the street and Tom had thought it to be a drunken hallucination. Fortunately, Tom thought, as he gathered his wits together and picked himself up off of the floor, Loki didn’t know where he lived. 

That didn’t deter the God though. He appeared at seven sharp outside of Tom’s flat, knocking twice hard against the door and waiting. Tom opened the door, dressed in a t-shirt and a black trousers and gaped at the sight of Loki in a full on suit. 

“Does one not dress up for a date?” The God enquired with a familiar arch of his eyebrow. His suit melted away, becoming more casual, something more like what Tom was wearing though he kept the scarf and the long black coat, which apparently seemed to be the only thing apart from the horned helmet ‘The Avengers’ had gotten right about this Loki. 

Tom glanced at his bare feet and then at Loki and sighed. “I need to get some shoes. Come in for a minute, please?” He wouldn’t leave him waiting out in the hallway, certainly not, it would be rude and his mother would never let him hear the end of it if she heard. 

When they were both ready, Loki held out his arm. Tom watched it warily, like a snake waiting to bite him, but then slipped his hand through the offered arm, feeling like an extra from a Jane Austen novel as Loki led him down the stairs and out into the street. Cameras flashed at the restaurant, but a glare from Loki had most of them packed away in a hurry, and Tom found that despite the fear and the worry, the curiosity burned brighter than any other emotion and the more questions he asked that Loki answer, the more he enjoyed himself. 

“I’d like to do that again,” he admitted softly as Loki walked him to his door. The man left him there, keeping his hands to himself while Tom unlocked the door. 

“I will collect you tomorrow. We did not get to see that movie you promised me.” They hadn’t, mainly because Tom hadn’t checked to see if there was anything worth seeing out because he didn’t think Loki would actually appear, and Loki hadn’t known any better. They had been very lucky to get a table at the restaurant as it was. 

“See you tomorrow then,” Tom offered, waving slowly as he shut the door between them. 

Loki collected him the next night at seven pm sharp, and the night after that, and the night after that and before either of them knew it a month had gone by and Loki still hadn’t received what he came for. They fought about it, their first fight as a couple (because Tom assumed they were a couple). It had been horrible and it had ended with Tom’s wrist caught in Loki’s grip, bones grinding as he screamed. Loki had left, disappearing in a flash of green light, and Tom had called a taxi to bring him to the hospital. He had woken up at home, wrist healed, but with no Loki in sight and had accepted it as the apology it was meant to be. 

Loki didn’t return for a month. When he did, Tom woke up completely naked, the God kneeling over him with hungry green eyes unashamedly naked as well. He didn’t push Loki away, though he probably should have all things considered; the man had left for a month after breaking his wrist and then assaulted him in his own home. Normal couples didn’t strip each other when the other was sleeping after all. But well, Loki was a God, and God’s could hardly be considered the norm, so Tom pulled Loki closer and accepted each kiss and touch, returned them with equal fervour, and in the morning when Loki remained in his bed by his side Tom didn’t make a big deal of it. He whispered, instead, “I love you,” into Loki’s hair and lay back down to savour the moment. He must have fallen asleep again because when he had next opened his eyes Loki was gone. 

Having gotten what he came for, Tom later realised, heart aching. 

It took a while, but he finally managed to go out without seeing Loki in everyone he met, and he talked to people, laughed with people, and there was one girl he kissed though he kept it quiet to protect her from some of his crazier fans. But Loki had found out about it somehow and that was what their next fight was about. 

“You would dare!” Loki had screamed, catching Tom by the throat again and dragging him away from Sian Clifford.1 She screamed at the sight of the God, having appeared out of nowhere and looking ready and capable to do some smiting. “You would give yourself to me and then whore yourself to another? That you would dare?” He was enraged, eyes barely more than slits and his lips curled back over his teeth in anger and disgust, but at least he was angry with Tom and not Sian, because Loki would hesitate to kill Tom. 

He threw him, and the human landed with a groan, rubbing his sore throat and coughing, greedily sucking air back into his lungs. “You left me!” Tom shouted once he could breathe normally again. 

Loki turned away from Sian, who he had been backing into a corner with a sneer on his face. He faced Tom, hands on his hips. “Yes! But you do not have permission to leave _me_ ,” Loki hissed, and beneath the anger Tom thought he looked hurt. 

His own anger faded at the betrayal shining in Loki’s eyes, hurt in the false stiffness of his shoulders, and he smiled, calm and polite once more. “Ok, I’m sorry. But leave her alone, ok? It’s not her fault.” 

Loki ignored the woman, pretended that she wasn’t there at all, and instead pulled Tom into his arms. Hands pressed lightly against his bruised throat, soothing and healing with nimble fingers as their mouths moved together, tongues and teeth pressing and scraping. Tom moaned, having missed the taste of Loki, the frost and fire that seemed to tangle around each other, day and night, light and dark, gentle touches and bruising grips all at the same time. It was wrong and dangerous and he should probably have walked away from the relationship right then, but he arched closer instead, loving the feel of Loki’s nails biting into the flesh and kissed him harder. 

“I love you,” he whispered when Loki finally pulled back. The God stared at him in silence, but he didn’t leave, which was more than Tom could have hoped for. “I love you,” he whispered again, lost in Loki’s eyes and taste and touch, not noticing Sian leave or his friends calling for him. Loki teleported them away, back to Tom’s flat in London, never mind that he had just been at a premier in New York. 

It took another two months for Loki to say it back, to admit that he cared about Tom the same way Tom cared about him, loved him. It took another fight though, this one in front of one of Tom’s sisters while they waited for the rest of his family to turn up so that Loki could be introduced to them. In the end, Emma waited alone, Loki fled, but not until he dropped Tom to the hospital _again_. 

He woke in his own bed again, his three broken ribs completely healed, and Loki greeted him with breakfast and roses. “This is becoming a habit of yours,” Tom murmured, slowly sitting up. 

Loki didn’t apologize; merely handing over the tray in silence and standing there until Tom started eating. Eating implied acceptance of the unspoken apology. Loki’s lips twitched, pleased, before the left the room to fetch a vase. He could only find a jug, so he filled it with water and brought it back to Tom, placing the roses in it and waiting for acknowledgement. 

“Thanks,” Tom said softly. He probably should say something, get angry, or throw Loki out, but he didn’t. He kept eating, even offering his lover a slice of toast, and smiled when Loki thanked him softly. 

“I love you,” Loki said after they had finished eating. It was blurted out suddenly, taking both of them by surprise, and Tom turned with his jaw hanging open to stare Loki right in the eye waiting for the God to take back his words. But they were repeated instead, soft and unbelieving, because Loki didn’t think he’d ever have the courage to love again, to open himself up so completely to another person, but the fear that Tom’s family might take him away was more encompassing. He was sorry that he had hurt Tom, sorry that he couldn’t ever seem to stop himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Apologies were not meant to fall from his lips except in false supplications and occasionally towards the All-Father to spare him suffering. But he would not lie to Tom. Actions would have to continue speaking louder than words and Loki would have to try and keep his temper under control, because it could have very easily been Tom’s neck that was broken not his ribs. 

Tom forgave him, Tom always forgave him. But that was whenever Loki hurt Tom. But he acted out in anger once, Diana screaming at him that he was no good for her son, that he should stay away and Loki had seen red. His eyes had turned, bleeding from green to red and the tips of his fingers had gone blue, frost creeping over his skin. He had grabbed her by the throat, snarling in her face, forbidding her from taking Tom away from him and she had gone silent, throat black, and eyes terrified and it was only Tom’s horrified pleading that had convinced Loki to release her before her eyes slipped closed. 

Tom had left him then, packed some of his stuff and moved back to his mother’s house. To take care of her, or to protect her from Loki, or so that Loki could not follow, the God did not know which one was his main reason, but he had gone. And Loki had been left alone. 

He raged for a week straight, back in Asgard, destroying everything that crossed his path. Then he mourned, because he would wake at night, cold and alone, and fear stilled his heart when he reached out for Tom and found no one there. Memories would return then, the look of horror across Tom’s face, the tears in his eyes, his begging and pleading for Loki to stop. The flinch Tom had given when Loki reached out to touch his face, to wipe away the tears. Loki cringed at the memory of it, of Tom’s fear and disappointment. Though Tom still loved him, Loki knew he was not welcome, but he lasted only a month before loneliness drew him back to the mortal’s side. 

He arrived with more flowers, too many to carry and so they floated behind him, his magic curling around each bouquet like shimmering vines. He had chocolates in one hand, the fancy stuff he had given Tom one time before and the man had complained about the price but had eaten them all nonetheless. In his other he carried a golden apple. 

“I am sorry,” Loki said as the door opened. Diana scowled at the sight of him, though she took several frightened steps back at the same time. “Please may I come inside?” 

“Mum?” Tom called, rising out of his seat when his mother made no move to come back into the room and he didn’t hear the door closing. 

“He says he is sorry. As if that makes everything ok.” Diana scoffed, refusing to move to let Tom passed her and refusing to allow Loki in. 

“Sorry?” Tom questioned with a frown, “Like he actually said the word? You said you were sorry?” His incredulity was to be understood, at least on Loki’s part, because Loki never apologized. Diana watched him as if he had gone mad, and Tom just laughed softly, because this was something he had never expected. 

“I am sorry. I have brought you this.” Loki handed over the apple. “This is my apple for this century; in satisfaction of the hurts I have caused you I will allow myself a century of vulnerability.” It wouldn’t kill him or age him terribly; at most Loki would take ten years off of his life, which was nothing in the sum of how long he had lived and how long still he would live. But Tom accepted the apple, and smiled. 

“Sorry doesn’t make it ok!” She whispered to her son, frowning as he allowed Loki inside. 

But sorry was a gift, one as golden as the apple Tom had in his pocket, one just as valuable. And no, it didn’t make what had happened ok, but it helped, and Tom understood just how hard it must have been for Loki to allow the words to pass his lips, not once but twice and in front of a veritable stranger as well. 

“I forgive you.” Tom reached out to squeeze Loki’s hands. “But if you ever hurt my family again that’s it, do you understand?”

“Verily,” Loki murmured, leaning down to catch Tom’s mouth in a kiss, soft and slow, savouring the taste of the mortal on his tongue again. “I have missed you.”

“Me too. Do you want to try to meet the family again?” He glanced warily at his mother, smiling widely at the sight of her on the phone. He heard her greet Emma, then she hung up and dialled again. Tom’s father answered this time, agreeing to come over as soon as he could, as Tom felt Loki’s arm slip around his waist from behind. “Thanks mum.”

“I don’t agree with this, at all, but I love you and I want you to be happy. If he makes you happy, then, well, you’re a big boy, Thomas.” 

“That you are,” Loki drawled into his ear. Tom’s cheeks went beet red, and Diana chuckled, Loki’s voice not having been low enough to escape her hearing. Suddenly introducing Loki to his family seemed like a very bad idea. 

“Behave!” 

Loki merely smirked, pressing a kiss to Tom’s cheek and leading him arm in arm towards the sofa. Diana cooked, and they talked and waited for Tom’s family to arrive. Loki was not cruel and he managed to keep his temper in check, even in the face of Emma’s rather inventive threats should he ever hurt Tom again, but he didn’t behave himself at all. And Tom, whose crotch was busy being massaged by Loki’s foot the entire way through dinner, couldn’t say much more than, “uh huh”, for fear of screaming Loki’s name in front of his family. His father seemed to know though, judging by the quirk of his lips that matched Loki’s, amused at his expense. Wankers, the lot of them. But Tom loved them nonetheless. 

**The End**

1 – Internet rumours; you know how it is. 

* * * 

Thank you all for reading. And wow! This one ran away with me. It’s still probably rubbish, but let me all know what you think? Yeah, abusive relationships aside, I’m not sure a mother would react like that, but here’s hoping she’s just laid back? 

I’m off to see Zero Dark Thirty now and hopefully not blow away to Oz because the weather is unreal right now!


End file.
